Before You Fall
by lunabelledara
Summary: Gibbs is contemplating suicide, only to be rescued by someone just like him. How will this affect Gibbs? Throwback to "Swan Song." WARNING: Angsty Gibbs, attempted suicide, language, and possible violence!
1. Death is Forever

**Author's Note: This is my first NCIS fanfic and it's based off of a dream that I had. It's a throwback to Season 8, episode 23/24, when Mike Frank dies. Constructive criticism is appreciated; flames will be used to roast marshmallows.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, though it is on my Christmas List.**

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><p>Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs was officially lost. As he leaned against the autopsy table, he stared at the black body bag that held his friend, Mike Franks', remains, and realized that he was completely and utterly lost. He had lost so many in his life; first Shannon, his beautiful Shannon, and his sweet angel, Kelly. Then it was Kate, the mostly level-headed, slightly mouthy agent that had reminded him so much of him when he was younger, he had to offer her a job. Next was Jenny, his boss and former lover. Oh how he wished he had told her how he really felt. He had loved her; not in the ass-over-teacup way that he loved Shannon, but in an almost fiery-passionate way. And now he had lost his long-time friend, and also a former boss, Mike. He had always thought Mike would die of lung cancer; hell, maybe even cirrhosis of the liver from too much drinking. Instead, he had gone down fighting, just like Jenny had.<p>

Slowly but surely, Gibbs' friends (and loves) were dying around him. Who would be next, Ducky? Ducky was getting along in life; not quite old, but definitely not as young as he used to be. Maybe Ziva or DiNozzo? Ziva had one hell of an attitude and a sailor's mouth to go with it. Tony was a player, everyone knew it, and left a string of broken hearts wherever he went. It was only a matter of time before one of his flings turned into a stalker. Abby & McGee were safe, granted Abby had alot of weirdo ex boyfriends and Tim just had no luck at all. But both of them were good people; almost innocent in Gibbs' eyes. Both of them would grow old, have children, and live fulfilling lives.

Gibbs, on the other hand, was tired of having an unsavory life. His sky-blue eyes fell to the gun at his side. After slowly pulling the gun out of its holster, he simply stared at it in his hand, nearly begging it to end it all. After all, he was easily replaceable, Director Vance had even told him so. Sighing, he leaned over and slammed his hands down on the autopsy table where Mike laid.

"Oh, Mike," he sighed, longing in his voice. Not longing as in a lover pining, but longing for what life used to be. Life before death took his family; life before all of the sorrow and pain that had been dumped in his lap. Banging on the autopsy table again, he yelled out with sheer frustration.  
>Flopping to the ground, he once again examined his gun. It was a Sig Sauer M11 P228 and had gotten him out of many sticky, nearly deadly, situations. And now it would get him out of one last situation, only this time, it would be deadly. He knew how death worked, how quickly rigor mortis set in, who would be notified, blah blah blah. This wouldn't even be investigated, because NCIS didn't investigate suicides. Even if they did, it would be an open-and-shut case. His eyes brimmed with tears that had been needed to shed for a very long time. He clenched the gun harder and jammed it to his temple, willing himself to pull the trigger.<p>

'It will all be over soon,' he thought.

And that was how Ducky's new intern, Lydia Kellogg, found him.


	2. In Need of Saving

**Author's Note: Okay, so I noticed that there was at least 71 people who had read my story in the past 12 hours. Could somebody maybe possibly leave some feedback? I do appreciate constructive criticism. I sorta like this chapter, but I sorta don't. I'm trying to get Gibbs' attitude back to his normal one, but I'm finding it kinda hard to do. Anyways, if you flame, it will be ignored.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own anything in this story but Lydia Kellogg. But I do think Santa's little helpers might possibly give me full ownership for Christmas this year.**

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><p>Gibbs was still staring at the body bag, finger ready to squeeze the trigger, when something blocked his line of vision. No, not some<em>thing<em>, some_one_. A someone with a very womanly figure and a faint Irish accent.

"Hey!" The girl yelled at him. "What is _wrong_ with you?"

Gibbs felt his arm being tugged on and his gun nearly yanked out of his hand. The foolish girl was trying to take his one permanent pain reliever away from him. What was wrong with _him_? More like what was wrong with _her_? It was apparent that she had no idea who he was; if she had, she wouldn't have even tried taking his gun from him. He was Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and _no one _took his gun from him. As he had once said before, the only way anyone could take his gun from him would be by taking it out of his cold, dead fingers.

"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" Gibbs yelled at the girl, yanking his arm, and his gun, away from her.

Putting her hands on her hips, she retorted, "This is my first day here at NCIS and I sure as hell will not have it start off this way!"

The girl stepped forward, putting her face nearly nose-to-nose with Gibbs', and continued, "I understand that you have someone you love currently laying on that autopsy table, but I can promise you that they wouldn't want you ending your life for nothing!"

The girl had a point, even though Gibbs had no desire to admit it. Mike would've thought him a coward and rightly told him so. Gibbs could even hear Mike's voice saying, "Probie, what are you doing? Put that gun down and man up. You have bigger fish to fry, like my killer for instance. There will be time for mourning later. For now, do your job."

After a small head shake, as if it would clear his head, Gibbs scowled at the girl, and in his deepest voice growled, "I suggest you back the hell off."

His blue eyes met with hers and what he saw there shocked him to his core. Not only were her eyes the exact shade of green that Shannon's were, he saw everything he felt at that exact moment reflected in her eyes. Pain, anger, hatred towards humanity, but mostly the sheer emptiness that came with losing nearly everyone someone had loved.

"I will back off as soon as you hand over your gun." The girl was no longer yelling, but the iciness in her voice nearly matched Gibbs' growl. Gibbs knew she was serious. Hell, she'd probably get downright annoying if she had to.

She held out her hand, while the other remained on her hip. Gibbs' eyes trailed from her hand, to his gun, and back to her hand. He sighed, then slapped the gun into her hand. Even though adrenaline was still running through his veins, he no longer felt the overwhelming urge to do himself harm. In fact, he could think much more clearly than he had in the past few hours. Gibbs was suddenly extremely tired and felt much older than he was. All he wanted to do was go home and sleep.

The girl walked to Dr. Mallard's desk, placed the gun on top of it, and walked back, stopping directly in front of Gibbs. Her eyes tried to look into his, but he wouldn't meet them. He couldn't, not after what had just happened. Any reminder of Shannon could send him over the edge again. If that were to happen, he felt that he would do this girl harm just to get to his gun. All she had done was try to help him. He risked a glance at the girl, but unfortunately for Gibbs, it wasn't unnoticed. The girl crossed her arms, uncrossed them, and crossed them again before she said anything.

"Listen," she said calmly. "I'm sorry I had to yell at you, but something tells me that you're rather important around here. Not to mention that I know how you feel, because I have been there."

Gibbs looked at her with his trademark steely gaze. "How would you know anything about what I've been through?"

The girl leaned against an unused autopsy table. "You'e lost a good friend, that much is obvious. From that haunted look in your eyes, I can see that you've lost more than a friend before this."

Gibbs raised up a hand. "Stop. Stop there. You're not going to do any of that touchy-feely headshrink mumbo jumbo on me."

She laughed. "I'm not a therapist, Agent... ?"

"Gibbs."

"Agent Gibbs." She paused. "As I was saying, Agent Gibbs, I'm not a therapist, nor am I any sort of doctor. I'm simply someone who also has felt the sharp pain of loss."

"Oh yeah?" Gibbs asked. "And who exactly are you?"

The girl smiled and held out her hand.

"I thought you'd never ask." As Gibbs shook her hand, she continued, "I'm Lydia Kellogg, Dr. Mallard's new intern."

"Ducky already has an intern."

Lydia shook her head. "Jimmy Palmer is not an intern, he's Dr. Mallard's assistant. He'll take over once Dr. Mallard retires. I, on the other hand, am simply learning the tools of the trade. Speaking of which, if you don't mind, I need to call Dr. Mallard and let him know that I am here."

Lydia stepped out of autopsy, leaving Gibbs alone. He turned his back on Mike's body and studied Lydia instead. She was young, couldn't be older than 26, but the way she held herself and viewed the world around her, she seemed much wiser. She had to be smart, she was Ducky's new intern. As Lydia paced, Gibbs noticed a slight limp. The girl was bigger, maybe about Tim's size when he first came on Gibbs' team, but that wouldn't explain why she had a limp. Her size, however, was well-placed in her chest and hips. She was a readhead, but not a fiery-red, like Shannon's, nor were her locks a coppery red, like Jenny's. They were more like a very deep burgundy, with tones of an almost-purple hue. Her hair was wavy, but not frizzy, and pulled back into a long ponytail. She was dressed in a simply gray long-sleeved shirt and a pair of jeans; the outfit made her seem uncomfortable, like she'd rather be wearing something much dressier. Lydia didn't seem high maintenance, she seemed more like Ducky: raised in a different era than the rest of them. An era full of wisdom and propriety. How she managed to do so being under the age of 60, Gibbs doubted he would ever know.

Gibbs noticed that Lydia was done with her call and was heading back into autopsy, so he quickly looked away. Unfortunately, he happened to look right at Mike's body. His shoulders slumped, his head drooped, and he leaned against the autopsy table behind him. He felt like he was being sucked right back into his suicide mode; he knew it wasn't his time to die, yet he couldn't help the overwhelming feeling to end it all.

He didn't hear Lydia come up behind him, so he nearly jumped when she spoke.

"Agent Gibbs, Dr. Mallard is on his way back down. He told me he had left you alone with Mr. Franks-"

"Mike."

"Mike?"

"The man that lays in that body bag," Gibbs motioned with his hand towards it, "is named Mike. He'd never forgive me if I let you continue on calling him Mr. Franks."

"Oh," was all Lydia said for a moment. She then continued, "He told me he left you alone with... Mike. I told him he should probably come back down here rather quickly."

Gibbs gave Lydia a steely-eyed glare.

"I didn't tell him anything," she said, returning the glare, along with a slight smirk. "I simply told him that you were under emotional duress and should probably have a friend here."

At that moment, Ducky walked in through the autopsy doors. "Jethro," he said, "Why don't you come upstairs with me?"

Gibbs opened his mouth to speak, but Lydia interrupted him. "Oh, that's ok Dr. Mallard, I can go."

Ducky looked at Lydia and nodded. "Okay, Miss Kellogg. I am terribly sorry your day started out like this, my dear. Perhaps come back tomorrow and we can start with the-" He paused, then corrected himself. "With your training."

Lydia simply said, "Ok, Dr. Mallard," and went to gather her coat and purse. Once she had gathered them, she waved to Gibbs and Ducky and quietly walked out of autopsy.

It wasn't until they heard the elevator go that either of them said anything.

"I am truly sorry, Jethro," Ducky said, sadness in his voice.

Gibbs nodded. "Me too, Duck."

Gibbs began to walk away, but Ducky asked, "Where are you going, Jethro?"

"Going to find the Port-to-Port killer, Duck."

"But, Jethro!" Ducky yelled out. "I really think you should take some time off. Let yourself grieve for awhile. You have lost so much."

Gibbs looked back at Ducky.

"You know, Ducky," he said, "I think you're right."


	3. Memories

**Disclaimer: Sadly, Christmas and Mother's Day has come and gone and I still haven't gotten the rights to NCIS... though my birthday IS coming up soon. :)**

In the evening, a few days later, Gibbs was busy starting on his newest project, a rocking chair, when he heard footsteps above him. Not wanting to take any sort of a chance, he quietly strode over to his workbench, slid open the top drawer, and pulled out the gun he had hidden there. Everyone knew that his door was always open, but since the Port-to-Port killer, he had started to lock it. There was only one person that had the key, otherwise the only way to get in was through a skilled lockpick. Gibbs hid in the shadows, waiting to see if the possible intruder was going to come downstairs. He heard the door at the top of the stairs open and loud thumps down the stairs. He spotted a pair of knee-high platformed boots and fishnet stockings and knew it was the only person with his other key.

"Abby," he said, right as her face appeared, "What are you doing here?"

"Oh Gibbs," she responded, running to him and giving him one of her huge hugs. "It's just awful. I heard about Mike and then you left and I was worried sick about you the past few days."

"If you were so worried, Abs, why didn't you stop by sooner?"

"Because Gibbs," she responded, "We had been working day and night to catch this guy. We caught him yesterday evening and I was going to stop by and see you but I was so tired, I had very little sleep, and then when I woke up I realized it was tonight and I rushed over here as fast as I could!"

"Slow down, Abs."

"Plus," Abby said sheepishly, "I know what you almost did. Gibbs, why would you want to do something like that? You have people here that love you, Gibbs."

Gibbs shook his head. "Not now, Abs, please? All I want to do is spend the next three days without having to think about that. Besides, how do you know what happened?"

Abby blushed and chose to ignore Gibbs' question. "Now that I know that you're okay, you have to come with me. I texted Tony and Ziva and they're going to meet us at a bar for a few drinks."

"Where's McGee?" asked Gibbs.

"Oh, hehe," Abby giggled and blushed slightly, "he slept over last night. It was too long of a drive to get to his place."

Gibbs nodded and then sighed. "Abby, I just don't have any desire to go to one of your rock clubs."

"Oh, but it's not one of those clubs, Gibbs!" she cried out. "It's just a normal, everyday bar complete with pool tables and sometimes karaoke. Please Gibbs? Please please please please pleeeeaaaaaasssse?"

Gibbs didn't know what it was about this girl, but he could never really tell her no when it came to outside of work. Perhaps it was because she reminded him so much of his daughter, Kelly.

"All right, all right," he said, throwing up his hands. "But you are not going to be getting me to sing karaoke."

"Oh, don't worry," Abby said. "I think there's some professional singer performing tonight."

There wasn't many people at the bar, Gibbs noticed. Well, it was technically called O'Malley's Irish Pub, but at that point in time, Gibbs didn't give a flying crap if it was named "Monkey Poo." He was itching for a shot, or five, of bourbon, maybe a little bit of whiskey. He followed Abby and McGee into the pub, looking all around him. For what exactly, he wasn't sure. They found Tony and Ziva inside, already waiting with drinks in hand. From the looks of it, they had already had a few. Ziva's hair was starting to come out of its tight ponytail and Tony's shirt had somehow become unbuttoned... about three times. Enough so that a little bit of chest hair was visible.

"Hey, Dinozzo," Gibbs said gruffly. "You wanna spare us the chest hair?"

Tony looked confused for a moment, looked down, and blushed slightly, quickly buttoning up his shirt.

"How are you feeling?" asked Ziva.

Gibbs shrugged. "As best as anyone else would be. Holding on."

For awhile afterwards, the only words that were spoken were their drink orders. Everyone seemed lost in some sort of reverie: Abby's head was leaning on McGee's shoulder, McGee leaning his head on top of hers. Tony was staring at the television, where some college team was losing horribly, and Ziva was simply leaning back into her chair, staring at the table in front of her. Gibbs was glancing around the bar, looking at the unfamiliar faces around them. He was uncomfortable, drinking in a bar like this. He hadn't done it in a long time, not since he went to Mexico with Mike.

Oh no, he couldn't think about Mike. Not right now, not around all these people. He quickly looked around the room for something to look at to distract his mind. His eyes fell onto the pretty girl who was singing in the back. She had been singing ever since they entered the bar, but he hadn't really noticed her until now. She had rich, burgundy colored hair and a long, black dress hugged her curves in just the right way. She had just finished up a song and was starting a new one. Gibbs decided to lose himself in the sound of her voice.

"_In this world you tried, by leaving me a lonely heart. _

_There's no other way, I pray to the gods 'let him stay.'_

_The memories ease the pain inside, now I know why. _

_All of my memories keep you here, inside of my mind, imagine you here. _

_All of my memories keep you here, inside of this place, silent tears._

_You made me promise I'd try, to find my way back in this life. _

_Hope there is a way, to give me a sign you're okay. _

_Reminds me again it's worth it all, so I can go home. _

_All of my memories keep you here, inside of my mind, imagine you here. _

_All of my memories keep you here, inside of this place, silent tears. _

_Together in all these memories, I see your smile. _

_All the memories I hold dear, darling you know I'll love you til the end of time. _

_All of my memories keep you here, inside of my mind, imagine you here. _

_All of my memories keep you here, inside of this place, silent tears. _

_All of my memories_..."

The music was haunting, her voice nearly angelic, matching perfectly. The words spoke directly to Gibbs, shook him down to the core. Then, with a slight shock of surprise, he realized who was singing; it was the same girl who had stopped him from pulling the trigger. Lydia.

"Hey guys," said McGee, bringing everyone out of their reverie, nodding towards the redheaded singer, "isn't that Ducky's new intern?"

"Yeah," said Tony. "Yeah it is. What's her name again? Lila? Luna? Lynnette?"

"Lydia," said Gibbs hoarsely. The other four stared at him like he had just announced that he had just gone bungee jumping.

"How do you know her? She didn't start 'til the day after you left," asked Abby.

Gibbs sighed. He assumed that the rest of his team, minus Abby, didn't know what had happened down in autopsy, but he still didn't want them to know. Not just yet.

"I met her while I was down talking to Ducky," he said shortly and left it at that.

The team seemed to accept this answer and relaxed slightly; well, almost all of them. Abby was giving him a strange look: at first, it was like she was thinking extremely hard, then it changed to almost realization. She relaxed back into her seat and put her head back onto McGee's shoulder.

"That's a beautiful song that she's singing," noted Ziva. "And she has got a lovely voice."

Lovely wasn't the term that Gibbs would have used, but he nodded anyways. "She is definitely interesting."

Nobody seemed to notice his comment, but it was true. He'd seen this girl a whole of maybe an hour total, but she was absolutely intriguing. He watched the way she moved, holding herself elegantly, making her waves of burgundy hair flow around her like a waterfall down to her hips. The long black dress that she wore sometimes sparkled when she moved and it had kind of a low neckline, but instead of looking like a whore, she looked beautiful and incredibly sexy. It was then that he realized that she had finished singing and was bowing to the applause that she was receiving from the bar. She got down from the small stage set up and began to walk towards the bar, a slight flush across her cheeks and chest; it seemed to Gibbs that she was trying very hard to hide her limp. He could barely notice it himself.

Gibbs drained the rest of his bourbon. "Anyone else need another?" he asked. A chorus of no's answered him, so he got up from his chair and went to the bar, standing a few feet from Lydia. He didn't want anyone to think that he specifically went up there to talk to her, considering he barely knew her, so he pretended he didn't notice her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Agent Gibbs! What are you doing here?" Her face was lifted up by her smile; simply radiant.

Not wanting to put a huge damper on her smile, Gibbs responded, "Just getting a drink with my team. In memoriam."

Lydia nodded. "I completely understand." She looked at the bartender making up someone else's drink for a few moments then leaned towards Gibbs.

"How are you feeling after everything?" she murmered.

"As good as anyone else would be," he said softly and felt Lydia put her hand on his arm.

"That's good to hear. Oh, that reminds me," she said and pulled out a small pen and piece of paper from a tiny bag on her waist that Gibbs hadn't noticed before. She began writing two phone numbers on it; Gibbs noticed how loopy and elegant her writing was.

"Here is my house phone and my cell phone numbers in case you need to talk to someone," she said, pressing the paper into his hand and looking into his eyes. "I didn't know him, but I do know exactly how it feels to lose somebody you love."

Gibbs nodded and put the paper in his pocket. At that time, the bartender placed their drinks in front of them: Gibbs' bourbon and Lydia's white wine. She held up her glass to Gibbs and said, "Cheers." He clinked his glass against hers and they drank. After about two minutes, Lydia placed her (empty) glass on the counter and turned to Gibbs.

"Well, I had better be going. We're on-call and it always seems that we get called in at all hours of the night, so I'd better get some sleep," she told Gibbs and placed a hand on his cheek. "Keep your head up. Like my mom used to tell me, 'It will all come out in the wash.' Have a good night, Agent Gibbs."

With that, she turned, grabbed what apparently was her coat from a chair close by, and went out the doors into the night, leaving Gibbs wondering: did she go home to anyone? Was she constantly alone? If no to the first and yes to the second, how would she have felt about his company? He shook his head at his thoughts. He shouldn't be thinking about someone like that, especially when he barely knew her. But, he had to admit, she had so much charm, she could outdo DiNozzo at his best.

**Sorry for taking so long to update this story; lots of things have come up since the last chapter was posted. In that amount of time, we moved to another state, among other things. But now I should be able to update regularly, so long as my writer's block doesn't constantly pop up. Oh, the song that Lydia sung is actually a song by Within Temptation, called 'Memories.' It's absolutely beautiful. Go look it up and tell me what you think: did it fit the Gibbs situation perfectly or no? Until next time, happy trails!**


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